Paranoid
by dee768nj
Summary: Did you ever wonder how Steph gets all those stalkers? Here's a look into the mind of one. Might be part of the world of Taking Charge, but just a little too freaky to fit, so it's a one-shot. Babe. Warning for smut and general creepiness.


_Response to Rena's Bored challenge.__ Scenario: It's mid-morning in Trenton, and Ranger and Steph are on a stake-out. Nothing seems to be happening, so they need to find a way to pass the time. It can be from any POV - Ranger, Steph, someone spying on them, a MM listening on a wire - your imagination is the limit, and in any setting. The only rule is, they can't get so distracted that they miss their skip!_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money. Recognizable characters belong to the great JE. Narrator is all mine, every insane iota of him._

_WARNING for sex, language, evil thoughts and insanity. Contains the "c" word. Can't seem to get away from the smut, so don't read if you're not into that sort of thing._

_**Might be **__**part of the world of Taking Charge, but j**__**ust a little too freaky, so this one stands alone.**_

_oOo_

**Paranoid**

By Dee

I know I'm paranoid.

It's official, as diagnosed by Dr. Nail-in-the-Head, so named because I'd like nothing better than to pound a nail into his head. Right in the center of his forehead. I've got the nail all picked out and sharpened, extra pointy. Now I just have to decide on the hammer. Should I go with the traditional carpenter style or the big rubber-coated mallet? Maybe I should do it with the backside of an axe. Then when the nail is fully embedded I can turn the axe around and…

…I was considering something. What was it? Oh, yes, paranoid. I'm paranoid.

But just because you're paranoid, that doesn't mean they're not after you.

And someone is after me.

I'm sure of it. They've been out there for two days now. Big black shiny SUVs with dark-tinted windows. The kind you can't see through at all. Not even a silhouette. They come, stay a while, and leave, only to be replaced by another just like them. And no one ever gets in or out of them. They just sit and watch and wait.

I'm too smart for them, though. I know the secret way out.

I silently slide through the darkness and pull my baseball cap down over my eyes as I slip out the tunnel exit. I am one with the night.

I need equipment. Tools that will allow me to evaluate and deal with this latest threat to my freedom, my God-given right to liberty. Give me liberty or give me death.

_oOo_

As I invisibly slip back into my lair with my bag of goodies, dawn is breaking. Morning. I hate fucking morning. I hate the light that exposes me to my enemies, strips me bare for all the world to see.

I walk up the dusty, cluttered stairs to my nest, taking the path I leave open through my supplies so I can settle into my moth-eaten chair by the front window. From this vantage point I can see everything that goes on in the street below. My toys are next to me. The black SUV du jour is still there. Thus beginneth the third day. It's time I dealt with it.

But no hurry. I need to be rested so my hand is steady and my eye is clear. I draw the drapes, pop a pill and lean my head back.

_oOo_

I awaken slowly and look at my watch. Mid morning. I assess my body. Calm, relaxed, ready to deal with the menace that is stalking me. I open the blackout drapes, careful not to disturb the sheer curtains that still cover the window. It just wouldn't do for my observers to see any movement.

Looking out through the sheers I see the black SUV is gone. I stand up to scan the street. I know they're out there somewhere. I can feel their eyes on me, like cockroaches scuttling over my bare skin.

Ah, there. Just around the corner. A shiny black bug-eyed truck with dark-tinted windows. I have a clear view of the windshield and driver's-side window. The perfect angle.

I pick up my first toy from the floor beside me. A night-vision scope. I am hopeful this will penetrate the barrier of the tinted windshield, the way a knife penetrates the barrier of the body, exposing its sweet inner being.

I mount the scope on a tripod and ever-so-slowly slide it into the crack at the side of the curtain. I put my eye to it and turn the focus knob.

Oh, God! I jerk back away from the scope, my heart pounding like tympani drums backed by a full percussion section in my chest. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.

They're looking at me through binoculars.

Wait, calm down. I repeat my mantra over and over. They can't see me. They can't see me. They can't see me. The curtain is in the way, and it's much darker in here than outside. They can't see me.

When my heart slows down and my hands stop shaking I try again, bringing my eye carefully to the scope. The binoculars are gone. Could I have been imagining them?

The scope lifts the veil of darkness that the tinted windows cast, and I can see them clearly. A man and a woman. I study their faces.

His dark, dangerous visage makes me tremble in fear. He's my worst nightmare, the avenging angel coming in wrath to redress the wrongs I've committed. Every life I've taken, every drop of blood I've spilled will pale before his mighty retribution.

If he is darkness personified, she is a vision of light. Not the dark angel, but the shining angel of mercy. She is his exact opposite—open, bright, beautiful.

I watch them for over an hour as they watch for me. He is stillness; she is constant motion. He waits patiently; she squirms restlessly. He is silent; she speaks. He is expressionless; she is animated. Yin and yang.

His mouth moves and I read his lips as a single word comes out, impeccable in its perfection. "Babe."

Babe. Oh, yes. The rightness of it overwhelms me.

He reaches over the console and pulls her across into his lap, his mouth descending on hers. My mouth is open, and when I realize it, I lick my lips and close them. I am hard as a rock watching them.

He has her straddling him, his mouth working its way down her neck. I can see the motions of his large hands as he slides them up her back to unhook her bra. He brings them around and pushes her shirt up in the front. Her head goes back over the steering wheel, long curly hair hanging free, as his mouth descends to her breast.

I am panting now, and my hand is drawn to my fly, opening it so I can take a tight grip on my erection.

His hands drop between them, his shoulders moving as he does something I can't see. The car door blocks my view from her waist down, but I am imagining undoing her pants, sliding my hand down into her folds, feeling her wetness, inserting a finger.

I stroke myself, squeezing my shaft and using my thumb and forefinger to manipulate the head, continuing to watch through the scope.

He lifts her by the waist and I can see her pushing her pants down and pulling one long leg out of them. She reaches down between them, still poised above him, and does something, making his head go back and his eyes close. Then he gently lowers her.

Her eyes close as his open. He says something and she opens her eyes. Staring fixedly at each other, both of their mouths open, he holds her up as his torso pumps up and down, back and forth, in and out.

My stroking gets faster and harder as I imagine she is here on my lap, her dripping cunt cradling my cock in its warmth and wetness.

His arms go around her, pulling her tight to him, his mouth taking hers as she cries out. I can hear her shrieking climax in my mind as I come, ejaculating all over my shirt and pants. We all come together, the dark avenging angel, the beautiful shining angel of mercy, and the doer of dark deeds.

He holds her tight in his arms for long minutes, whispering into her ear. I imagine the words of love he says to her as I tuck myself back into my pants and zip up. I'll need to change my clothes later, but for now the cum all over me is a memory of her.

He lifts her back over the console, giving me a glimpse of slender white thighs and a rounded buttock. They pull their clothes back into place and resume their watching.

Another hour passes, but now they're both talking. A conversation. I watch their lips, going from one to the other, but I can't understand. The only word I can recognize, the only word I want to hear, is his "Babe."

A car pulls up next door, the ancient, beat-up green sedan of my neighbor. I've never met him, would never allow a neighbor to see me, to be able to give a description to those who seek to deprive me of my liberty, but I've watched for months as he's come and gone.

While I'm watching him get out of his car, I suddenly realize the two angels are out of the truck, one on each side of him, grasping his arms and slapping handcuffs on his wrists.

I flick my scope from night to day to stare at my bright angel of light and mercy, memorizing her features. She looks familiar somehow, as if I've seen her before. Has she been inhabiting my dreams?

How wrong she looks dressed like the dark avenging angel all in black, wearing boots. She should have bare feet with blood-red toenails and a long white dress of the sheerest gossamer. I have just the dress downstairs in a trunk in the basement. I can imagine her wearing it, her beautiful curls cascading down over her shoulders. I can imagine her body laid out on my work table as I remove the dress to explore her grace, making her my own, penetrating the barrier of her body with my knife, exposing her sweet inner being.

The two angels escort my neighbor to the truck as I watch, chaining him in the backseat. As my sweet angel of beauty steps up on the running board to get into the passenger side, she pauses and turns and looks right at me. I hold perfectly still, staring at her through the scope, admiring her beauty and envying that dark bastard his possession of her. She can feel me, just the way I feel her. She wants me to take her as much as I want it.

He says something and she shivers slightly as she slides into her seat. And then they drive away.

_oOo_

I sit in my chair, my head back, fantasizing about my angel of light. I'm certain I've seen her before. I let my mind drift and imagine a picture of her, face dirty, smoke billowing in the background.

Ah. The newspaper. She was in the newspaper.

I rise from my chair and turn to the stacks of newspaper piled up on the side wall of my lair. Stack after stack after stack. Somewhere among those piles of papers I'll find my angel and learn her name. And then it will only be a matter of time until she's mine.

I hum a song about my angel as I begin my search.

_The End—And no, don't even ask. It may sound like a prologue to something longer, but there's NO chance of a continuation!_


End file.
